


A Fiendish Friend

by TheFaye92



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Dash of Humor, F/M, Fiend the Dracolisk, Inquisitor's POV, POV First Person, Pre-Relationship, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFaye92/pseuds/TheFaye92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friendship, thy name is dracolisk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I: Inquisitorial Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a short little two chapter story that takes place before the Revelations Quest. Unlike my FanFic Two-Hundred Roses, which I tell from Blackwall’s third-person perspective, I’m telling this one from my Inquisitor’s first-person perspective. And don’t worry; you don’t have to read Two-Hundred Roses to enjoy this one, but I would really appreciate it if you did!
> 
> In Roses, this scene is played out as a memory, but I’ve always wanted to go back and write it from the Inquisitor’s pov. I decided to play around in my Inquisitor’s head for the weekend, it’s been rather fun.

**A Fiendish Friend**

_**Chapter I: Inquisitorial Thoughts** _

Blackwall was waiting for me in the main hall when I came down from my quarters. His eyes wandered over me, taking in my disheveled appearance. I wasn’t wearing anything fancy, just a pair of riding pants and an old tunic. If I mentioned his gawking, he would immediately deny it. But I could tell by the way he looked at me that he had momentarily forgotten what he was going to say.

I moved past him and he finally remembered, he was on my heels in a second. Even though he was twice my size and stronger in every aspect when he grabbed my wrist it was gentle. I could talk the talk, flirt with him all I liked, and then be embarrassed about it later, but whenever we touched I couldn’t stop the creeping heat in my face. I had told him I was going to pursue him—I wasn’t doing it very well—but now that he was starting to take notice, now that his defenses were crumbling, I found myself growing more and more nervous whenever he was around. And this sudden taking of my hand wasn’t helping me.

“My lady, I know it was a gift, but I have seen these beasts at tourney shows.” He said softly. For someone who commanded quite the presence, Blackwall was surprisingly sweet and kind. “They’re smart, and not horse smart, my lady, _predator_ smart.”

I tried to calm his fear with a smile. “I appreciate your worry, Serah, but I am the Inquisitor. I can handle a dracolisk.” I wasn’t truly sure that I could, but I had made a bet with Dorian and I wasn’t about to back out of it now. “Besides,” I added, smoothly taking my hand back. “I can bring down Red Templar behemoths and stare down Orlesian nobility and if that doesn’t count for something, I don’t know what does.”

He sighed. “Consider, my lady,” when I started down the keep stairs he followed after me. “That creature is kin to dragons.”

“Then it’s the perfect mount for the Inquisitor, don’t you think?” I quipped, then reached to the pouch on my belt and took out a peppermint candy. A nervous tick if anything. The mint was cool and sweet and I calmed the moment it touched my tongue.

Below, Cassandra was waiting with Varric and Sera. As usual, Cassandra was wearing her _displeased_ face. I ignored it as best I could. She was in heavy agreement with Blackwall and had made it perfectly clear the other night when she ambushed me in the garden and lectured me. I understood why everyone was worried (well not everyone, Varric, Dorian, Bull, and Sera were ecstatic—money was involved).

“Well?” Cassandra asked Blackwall.

Blackwall shrugged and muttered; “Don’t look at me,”

Varric chuckled. “She’ll be fine,” he put money on me, unlike that traitorous elf who’d thrown her lot in with that equally treacherous peacock.

“Thank you Varric, at least someone has some faith.” I smirked and turned down the stairs for the barn.

A crowd was gathering in the lower yard. The kitchen staff, servants, and even the soldiers on the wall had stopped their duties to watch. I saw Dorian and Bull standing with Krem and the other Chargers. The group was expected, nothing like watching their Inquisitor fail in the most embarrassing of fashions—or triumph, also probably in an embarrassing fashion.

Much to my surprise though, Cullen had ventured out of his office to watch from the bridge, Josephine and Leliana too. Well that raised the stakes.

The gathered crowd parted for us I found my Stable Master standing with his arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Your Worship, I must disagree with this,”

I smiled. I wasn’t exactly used to getting whatever I wanted, growing up in the Circle taught a girl to leave wants behind, but on this matter I wasn’t going to be moved. Honor and ten sovereigns were on the line. “I know Master Dennet,” I cooed, he softened. “But I want to try.” I’d learned, since becoming Inquisitor, that I had a certain _manipulative charm_ about me. I was pretty sure it came from being short and being young, they didn’t expect me to have a handle on everything—or at least to be good at pretending I did.

The Horse Master sighed; “They’re mean, your Worship. And yes, the eat meat.”

“Still,” I crossed my arms and made a show of tapping my foot. Dennet caved and went to fetch the beast.

It was a savage beauty: a green and scaly monstrosity with claws and horns, teeth as sharp as razors, and eyes as yellow as sunflowers. The noise it made was something unholy, but it was a gorgeous creature. Something I had only ever seen in books. And now, seeing it before me, alive and breathing, lit an excitement in me like none other.

Blackwall placed his hand on my shoulder. I felt the shock of his touch again as he said; “I just…I don’t think this is the kind of…thing…you should be riding.”

I brushed his hand off; “Concern noted, dear, and ignored.” Carefully, and trying to ignore the murmur of the crowd, (and the fact that I had just referred to Blackwall as _“dear”_ ), I stepped forward and lifted my hand for the dracolisk to sniff. “I am not food,” I told it in my best, most authoritative voice. “So don’t even think about taking a—” I felt it move before I saw it, and snatched my hand away as its jaws snapped closed. “A bite.”

Nice try there, beastie.

Behind me, Sera burst into laughter; “If you’re not careful we’ll be one hand short an Inquisitor!” I shot her a look and rolled my eyes.

“I’ll just have to take yours as a replacement,” I grumbled. Blackwall held back a snort of laughter. That made me smile. I loved his laugh.

Slowly, I turned back to the dracolisk. “Now then, beastie, I am not dinner,” again I held out my hand and when it didn’t bite, I reached forward and it let me put my hand on its snout. “See, I whispered. “I’m not so bad,”

The dracolisk tilted its head and his eyes went soft. I couldn’t help but feel another smile come to my face. Maybe it was just a misunderstood creature? Like mages. Like me. We could have that in common, making him the perfect mount for someone trying to make the world a better place.

And just when I thought we were having a connecting, he had my hand in his mouth, drawing blood. I gave it a sharp smack on the ear and it let go of my hand while also screeching. “Oh relax,” I growled. “I’m the one who’s bleeding,”

Dennet came forward and took the beast’s rope and started tugging it back to the barn.

“Ah shit,” Blackwall cursed and took my hand. He riffled in his pocket for a handkerchief.

“I’m alright,” I told him as I examined the mark. “It’ll be healed in a cinch.”

He wrapped my hand and said; “I told you not to get to close to that thing,”

“Well,” I grumbled, shooting a look at the beast. “Now he’s had a taste.” I raised my voice of the crowd. “I hope I taste bitter, you fiend!”

Blackwall gave me back my hand and I missed his warmth. “I wish you would let it go,” he sighed.

I shook my head. “I won’t be defeated so easily.” But, with my hand bleeding I was forced to walk away with my wounded pride.

XXXX

I was never very good at healing, but I knew enough to get by and the dracolisk hadn’t bitten very hard. Blackwall watched attentively from across the table as I dabbed each cut with elfroot salve and then set about healing them. My palm sported a set of new, light pink scars, and it hurt to close my fist but I showed Blackwall with the proudest, most unembarrassed smile I could muster.

“See, easy fix,” I said. He took my hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. So much electricity shot through me for a second I thought I accidentally cast a spell. He let go of my hand and as quickly as it came, it vanished. But I still felt warm in my cheeks like I’d had a bit too much wine. I couldn’t believe that he didn’t feel it, he had too. Every time we got close something around us just…fell into place.

I had never been in love before; I had no way of knowing if I was doing it right; Blackwall often responded to my weak attempts at flirtation, but I really didn’t know if it was working. Sometimes I felt like a foolish little girl after something she couldn’t have. Or even though there was something between us and I could see it in his eyes, I thought that maybe he thought I was just some child. That I would grow bored of him and move onto something—someone—else.

But I didn’t want to. Maker help me, I didn’t want to.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“A little,” I answered.

“Good,” he chuckled, unable to keep his face straight. “Perhaps that will teach you to leave that monster alone,”

I was only slightly shocked by his answer. “Well, Serah,” I rose from my seat, he followed. “I can assure you that I am not going to give up, Genevieve Trevelyan does not give up.”

He nodded. “An admirable trait, my lady, but I would hope you’d sing a different tune if we were to face a dragon,”

I smirked. “Oh, that little fiend isn’t a dragon, he doesn’t breath fire.”

“Thank the Maker for that,” he mumbled. “So then, my lady, what’s on the agenda today?”

“Paperwork,” I sighed. “I have warrants to sign—those are always fun.” There were other things too, letters, commissions, budgets to approve, soldiers to move, nobles to placate, trips to plan. “Will I see you at dinner though?”

“If it would please my lady,” he was always so formal, even though we were friends.

“It would,” I answered. “And what will you be doing?”

“I promised the Commander I would look over some of the troops down in the camps.” That meant taking his horse and no chance to see him till dinner.

“I’ll see you at dinner then,” I said and we parted; him for the barn and me for the war room.

My advisors abruptly stopped laughing when I came in. Despite the ache in my pride, it made me happy knowing that they thought of me as friend even if that meant letting them laugh at my expense.

“So,” I began trying not to seem annoyed. “Warrants?”

Cullen handed me a stack of paper from across the table. “It might be a good idea to rush those, Inquisitor, some of them aren’t just simple fugitives, they have _teeth_ ,” he put an emphasis on that last word. Muted chuckles followed, even from Leliana.

“If you’re going to make fun of me,” I said, leafing through the papers, bored already. “At least try,”

“We’re sorry Inquisitor,” Josephine had a wide smile on her face. “We should treat you with the utmost respect, but, you see, we’re on the _horns of a dilemma_.”

I did not hold back the roll of my eyes as all three of them burst into laughter. I set the papers on the table and took up a quill and a bottle of ink. “I’ll just work on these while you get this out of your system,” I grumbled, signing my name across the bottom of the first warrant. At least they were having fun; they rarely ever left their offices.

“I’m surprised at both of you,” Leliana hissed. “The Inquisitor could have been eaten today, she could have lost her hand and the mark.”

I was about to say “not really” when she suppressed a smile and added; “Do you suppose the dracolisk could do paperwork?” This got all three of them into a laughing fit that would lull only to pick up again when I glared.

“Are we done?” I asked after a moment of silence.

Cullen cleared his throat; “We are Inquisitor…” and then he was laughing again. I couldn’t take too much offense; I had been the one to put myself in the situation anyway.

Quickly, I signed a few more warrants and stacked them up to await my official seal of office. Luckily, they didn’t make me wait too much longer before we finally got down to business. Josephine handed me a stack of letters that awaited my response and I greenlit most of Cullen’s military movements.

“Any word from our scouts on the Exalted Plains?” I asked.

Leliana nodded and handed me a scrap of paper. Scout Harding’s scrawl was small, but I had gotten better at reading it. I set the paper on the war table and sighed. “I think it might be wise to send some more men to the Plains, Cullen. Between the freemen and the Venatori, they might need some reinforcements.”

He nodded. “It will be done. Will you be going there yourself, Inquisitor?”

“Eventually,” I answered. “I promised Blackwall we would go to the Storm Coast and I want to check in on Crestwood if we’re going that direction anyway.” We agreed on a timeline. The Winter Ball was coming up and that meant everything had to be planned around it.

I gathered up my paperwork and headed for my quarters. Ser Marbrand and Ser Brandon, my personal guard, had taken up position outside my door.

“Allow me, your Worship,” Brandon took my work and opened the door.

“Thank you ser,” my silent shadows followed me into the stairwell. I took the papers back and headed up.

There was a fire in my hearth already and I was half tempted to dump the papers into the fire and claim an accident. Instead, I stacked them onto my desk, sat down and got to signing warrants until the sun finally set.

Supper wasn’t until another hour at least but I couldn’t stand to look at paperwork anymore and my hand hurt. Despite it being my own doing, I felt a little bitter about it and rooted around in my collection of herbs for some royal elfroot to chew. The leaf was bitter so I took a candy from the little jar on my desk to help with the taste.

There was a time in my life when being left alone with my thoughts was welcomed. But now it was my most hated time of day. Being around everyone else made it easier to just grin and bear it. But here there was no one to see me slip off _Inquisitor Trevelyan_ and become Genevieve, former Circle Mage and gardening enthusiast.

I browsed the books on my shelves in hopes of finding a distraction, but none of them appealed. A walk seemed in order so I took the big bear fur coat Blackwall had given me and pulled it on.

“I’m going for a walk,” I told the knights. Their acknowledgement was simply to follow me. I led them out the main doors and down into the yard and up onto the battlements to overlook the bridge.

Below, the camps were dotted with cook fires. So many people displaced by tragedy and so many here for a pilgrimage. There were even some who worshiped me, though I knew the truth of my mark. I wanted to tell them I wasn’t holy, Andraste had not picked me. I believed it was meant to be this way, but I wasn’t a holy figure. Although Josephine was right; it was easier to let them believe in me as the chosen of Maker.

Being alone made me moody so I was happy when one of the passing guards stopped and saluted; “Your Worship,” she smiled, it really did make them feel better when I was around.

“Serah,” I returned her salute. “Anything interesting happening?”

“It’s all quiet, Inquisitor. Though I did spot a family of barn owls in the rafters of the east tower. The owlets are all fluffy with down.” she paused. “I’m sorry, your Worship. I didn’t mean to bore you,”

“You didn’t bore me,” I told her. “Are the owlet’s cute?”

“ _Very_ , Inquisitor,” she swallowed nervously. “Would your Worship like to see them?”

There was still a lot of time before dinner so I nodded. “I would,” the guard led me and my escort to the ruined eastern tower.

It was a lot easier to see the owls when she lit a torch. The birds didn’t fly off in a panic either; mum and da just peered over the edge of the nest to stare at us. Their babies followed after we were assessed and deemed harmless. And the guard was right, they were little round balls of fluff with deep brown eyes the size of marbles. We watched them until they grew bored and ducked back into the warmth of their nest.

“Thank you,” I told the guard as I doused the torch with an ice spell and we ventured back out onto the frozen wall.

“Of course, your Worship.” She smiled, joyful that she got to share something so simple with the Inquisitor. I hoped she would share the story with her friends in the barracks and that it might help morale.

It was close to dinner now, so I decided it was time to go down. Dorian and Sera were already seated in the dining hall off of Josephine’s office.

“Inquisitor, I must insist you throw in the towel.” Dorian chuckled. “We can’t have you losing your fingers to that beast, best just to lose a little coin.”

“Bite me, Dorian,” I grumbled as he and Sera erupted into laughter. I poured myself a cup of wine, a sweet red, my favorite.

Varric came in and Dorian spent the better half of ten minutes trying to convince him to change his bet. Varric just shook his head. “Never bet against the hero, Sparkler, that’s just common sense.”

I smirked. “Thanks Varric,”

“Someone has to have your back,”

When Cassandra and the First Enchanter came in, all talk of bets silenced. Cassandra took the chair to my right and I poured wine into her cup. I liked having these dinners together; it kept us close and grounded. Like having supper with family. They had been dubbed my Inner Circle, which made sense; I went into the field with them and spent the bulk of my time with them.

Though there were still chairs empty, dinner was served. Belinda always did a wonderful job and I found myself eating better with the Inquisition that I had at the Circle in Ostwick, and the Circle wasn’t known for skimping on meals.

Blackwall came in when we were halfway through the meal. He sat across from me, and must have seen me eyeing the honey Sera was hoarding and picked it up and placed it by me without a word.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, he pulled the wing off a roast chicken. “Had to put my horse up and feed her.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Blackwall was a man of his word; I knew he would come to dinner no matter what. Bull, I looked over at an empty chair, was probably with his Chargers.

“So,” Dorian smirked from across the table. “Are you all done making fun of the Inquisitor or does anyone have any last minute japes they’d like to get in?”

“Oh,” I raise my hand. “I do; if the Tevinter peacock doesn’t shut his Imperial mouth I may be forced to set him on fire.”

“I said jokes, Inquisitor,” Dorian laughed.

“No, no, you see, it’s funny because I might actually do it this time.” Laughter around the table. I would never do it, I was too fond of Dorian to actually hurt him, but we always had fun when we went back and forth like this.

“So you’re sure you’re not ready to give yet? That dracolisk almost ate you,” Dorian refreshed his wine goblet.

“We should get rid of it,” Cassandra exclaimed. “It’s dangerous.”

“I am inclined to agree with the Seeker,” Blackwall added. “We should have the beast taken back to its homeland and set it free.”

“It’s only been one day,” I insisted. “I spent ten minutes with it. You can’t tame a horse in a day, you know.”

“It’s not a horse,” Cassandra snapped.

“A dracolisk, whatever,” I grumbled. I knew she was looking out for me, but this was all really starting to grate on my nerves. “I am going to tame the damn thing and that is the end of it,”

XXXX

Three weeks later, Blackwall found me leaning against the stable wall in front of the dracolisk’s pen, reading poetry to it and feeding it. I paused and looked up from my book. “Hello, Serah,” I smiled and reached my hand into a bucket of offal that Belinda kindly donated. I pulled out what I was sure was a liver and tossed it at the dracolisk. The beast caught it in his mouth and swallowed it whole.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“Fine, you?” I had pulled the sleeve of my tunic up to my elbow and my wrist and hand were covered in blood.

“I’m alright.” He paused, “You’re feeding the dracolisk?”

“I am,” I chuckled. “This must look very strange,” I was no stranger to blood and guts now that I had taken an active part in war, although I’m sure my younger self would never had imagined I would willingly stick my hand in a pail of cow guts.

“Yes,” Blackwall laughed. “That’s not Dorian is it?”

“Alas, it is not.” I smirked. “But it is a good threat for the future. "I’ll feed you to my dracolisk the next if you bet against me,”

“He knows you won’t do it,” Blackwall leaned against the wall next to me. He put off heat like a campfire, smelled like one too.

“Oh, I love Dorian,” I told him, picking up another bit and tossing it at the beast. “And we joke, but that’s all.”

“So have you made any progress?”

“Well he’s learned that if he doesn’t bite me he gets treats.” I said. “Would you like to see?”

“I suppose so, but be careful, my opinion hasn’t changed.” I handed him my book and reached my hand out to rub the dracolisk’s nose.

The beast and I locked eyes, one of my books said it was the best way to deal with dracolisks in the wild. I figured the tip worked here as well. If he knew I was in charge and that I wasn’t willing to take any nonsense, he would come to respect and listen to me.

“See, you fiendish creature, I am the hand the feeds you and you don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” I reached into my pail, pulled out a choice piece of meat and held it out. The dracolisk took it from my hand. “Gentle, gentle,” I told him as his teeth scraped my palm. “Good boy,”

Blackwall clapped. “Good work my lady; perhaps you’ll charm the beast yet.”

“Well, it’s progress.” I shrugged. Dorian made a critical mistake in our bet; he forgot to specify a time. And every time he argued, I deferred to Varric, who shut him down with a few quick words.

I tipped the bucket into the pen and the rest of the offal came tumbling out into the dracolisk’s pen.

“I have a little water and soap.” Blackwall said pointing to the barn. By that he meant an old bucket of rainwater, it was ice cold and the soap smelled more like lard than anything else, but it got the job done. He handed me back my book when I was clean.

“So why were you reading to it?” Blackwall picked up an extra chair from the back of the barn and set it down before the fire for me.

“To get him used to the sound of my voice,” I sat down, the fire felt warm on my legs. “I want him to know me by voice.”

“Reasonable,” Blackwall sat across from me, carving knife and a little block of wood in hand.

“What are you making now?” I asked.

“A chess set for the children in the camps. They haven’t got much,”

“That’s very kind of you,” I opened my book and started reading to the sound of him shaving wood. It was nice to sit in the peace and quiet, just the two of us. He was so grounding, like a rock. I felt like I could relax around him and I hoped he felt it too.

An hour passed and then two. By the third, I decided the break had to end. There were letters waiting for answers and I still had some time before bed. I closed my book and rose from my seat.

“Thank you Serah,” I smiled and Blackwall looked up, confused. “For the evening, it was very relaxing,”

He got up and almost stumbled into me. “Of—of course, my lady. Would you like me to escort you back to the keep?” he was so close I could feel the warmth on him.

Gently, I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I think I can manage,” I turned and strode into the darkness of the yard. I felt flushed and stupid. I hoped he wasn’t watching, because my walk had turned into a half run. The cool air wasn’t doing anything to make me feel better.

Ser Marbrand was waiting by the keep steps. If he saw how red my face was he didn’t say anything. Of my silent shadows, this half was the quietest. I tried to calm down when I entered the main hall, but I found myself in a blind rush for the stairs.

It was just a kiss, I told myself. A kiss on the cheek, chaste, just a lady saying goodnight to a friend.

But what if I scared him? I mean I just scared myself! Once in my room, I fell into my desk chair—just another thing to worry about when I try to fall asleep.

By the light of a few candles I read a few of my letters and carefully wrote answers. I dabbed the three I had finished with green wax and then marked them with my signet ring. There were more of them, but I couldn’t stand another. My bed was calling me.

I kneeled down against the frame of my bed and said my prayers; “My Maker, know my heart…” I could recite it from memory. On top of growing up in a pious family I had found solace in the Circle Chantry. And now it helped me make sense of things.

With the end of my prayer, I climbed into bed and found myself thinking of Blackwall more than anything else. It was easy to think of him; the richness of his laugh, the way he smiled when I made stupid jokes, how he listened when I talked about plants and the garden. How in the middle of a fight, if someone got to close he would charge them like a mad bronto. These thoughts drew me back to the kiss in the yard.

“It was an innocent kiss,” I muttered into my pillow, saying it out loud gave it some credence. “A lady kissing her friend goodnight.”

This got me thinking of other _things_ —things that made me nervous because I had no experience in the matter. Or in any of this, actually; I knew nothing of romance beyond the campy novels my roommate in the circle insisted I read. I was an Enchanter at the Circle, but that had been the extent of my leadership knowledge, I hadn’t even been old enough for an apprentice, just a little teaching under the careful watch of a Senior Enchanter.

It was easier now, being the one everybody looked to for answers. The war table flashed across my vision like a ghost. Oh Maker, did I make the right choice today? Are my men going to make it home or have I doomed them?

I turned onto my stomach and pushed my face into my pillow and tried to think of Blackwall because it was easier to think of him than anything else. I fell asleep like that.

 


	2. Chapter II: Fiend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So decided it was running a bit long. I cut it into three chapters, I'm sure no one minds.

**Chapter II: Fiend**

“You stop snapping at Master Dennet right this instant!” I shouted at the dracolisk, naturally it didn’t listen so I picked up a hunk of dried nug and put my hand on his nose to make him stop trying to bite my Stable Master. Dennet tied the dracolisk to a pole and headed back for the barn. 

Today we were going to try our hand at saddling the beast. A small crowd was gathered, but everyone had lost interest in my attempt to tame the dracolisk a few weeks ago. It was small miracle, but I took it.

I tore a bit of nug jerky and gave it to the fiend. And he was a fiend. He took to snapping at me when I wasn’t looking, clawing at me when I got to close, and snorting repugnantly when I tried to touch him.

“Alright you great brute,” I muttered putting the jerky away. “Hold still and you get another treat, okay?”

Dennet handed me a saddle he had custom made for the dracolisk. He threw a blanket over the beast’s back and the fiend watched him, hoping for a chance to take a bite. I put the saddle on his back and leaned down to buckle it. I felt the dracolisk’s jaws reaching for me.

“You’ll have to be sneakier than that,” I told him as I put my hand on his nose. “I am not food.” I reached for the dried nug and showed him a chunk of it. “This is food.” I fed it to him and it kept him busy enough for me to finally buckle the saddle into place.

When the beast finished his jerky he started juddering and hopping up and down trying to shake the saddle off. I laughed at him and tossed him another chunk of nug. He caught it and when he was done chewing he started another wild dance to free himself from the saddle.

After a few minutes I went towards him and he snapped at me. “Hey!” I yelled. “Stop that!” he didn’t until I held up another piece of nug. I took the saddle off while he was busy and passed it on to Dennet.

I crossed my arms and sighed. “Well, we’ll keep trying until he gets used to it.” I told the stable master.

Dennet nodded, but I could tell he didn’t like it.

And we did. For weeks. I had his saddle put on every day, over time he got used to it; he even stopped trying to snap at me.

Finally, after a month of getting him used to the saddle I decided it was time to ride him. Everyone, as I had expected, was thoroughly against it. The Inner Circle had gathered to watch me finally mount and ride the beast.

Dennet tied a muzzle around the fiend’s mouth while saddle him. The Stable Master had tied him to a post with a long rope so that we could walk around the yard without fear of the dracolisk getting free.

From the corner of my eye I could see Blackwall, his arms crossed over his chest. He was shifting nervously on his feet; of all of my friends, Blackwall disliked this most of all.

I tried my best not to appear worried or nervous. If I showed them that I was confident in myself they might not worry as much as I knew they all were. Cassandra was the only one to voice it though.

“This is madness,” she growled. “Master Dennet, take that beast back to the stable!” Dennet looked at her and then at me.

I shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”

Once the saddle was secure, I gave the beast a gentle stroke from the tip of his nose to the top of his head. “Good beastie.” I whispered and then gave him a soothing rub behind his horns. “Now let’s show everyone we’re a team, yeah?”

In one swift movement, I set my foot in the stirrup, swung my other leg over the dracolisk’s back and was mounted. He didn’t do anything, just held perfectly still. I took his reins and gave a click of my tongue and a press of my knees. He didn’t move.

“Going to be like that then are we?” I muttered. I gave him another nudge, still nothing. With a sigh I turned to my Inner Circle. “Which one of you is brave enough to lead him?”

Blackwall stepped forward without a word. He took the rope connecting the dracolisk to the pole and starting guiding the beast around in the circle. With the rope in hand he turned back to look at me. “You’re going to get yourself hurt,”

I sighed. “How is this different from going out into battle?”

“Because you’re putting yourself in this situation,” he grunted and turned away.

“Do you really have no faith in me?” I asked, I was starting to feel irritated. The others could surely hear us, but I didn’t care. “Am I just a foolish girl, wasting my time? Shall I give up on the dracolisk? On you?”

Blackwall decided not to answer. Just as well, we finished up for the day and I went to take care of my other duties.

XXXX

Paperwork. _Paperwork._ **_Paperwork._** Even though I was a little upset with him, I still couldn’t wait for my scheduled trip to the Wounded Coast. I had promised Blackwall we would go, and since we would be in Ferelden I wanted to check in on Crestwood. My agents were still looking for the mayor and I wanted to see if he had ventured back to collect anything.

Just a week longer, I told myself as I combed through a missive full of legal jargon. Sometimes the nobles I worked with wanted things, and they figured the best way to get them was to confuse the ever-loving void out of me. Unlucky for them I didn’t like being tricked; I poured over books and asked Josephine questions when I couldn’t find the answer myself. Slowly, but surely, I was learning the Game.

The more I learned of the Game, the more I hated it. The underhanded tricks, the murder, using the law to get around other laws—backstabbing and backbiting—it was the foulest way to run a government. The smallfolk got smashed underneath the heel of the nobles and those who played by the rules were ridiculed and murdered when they tried to change the way things were done in Orlais.

I decided I would need Josephine’s help with this particular letter. I put it back on my pile of papers and got up to stretch. It wasn’t dark yet, but I wanted to feed the dracolisk. I’d take up responsibility of feeding him since he took a snap at both Dennet and both the stable boys who assisted him. I felt it was helping us bond anyway. I picked a book from my shelf; _Hymns and Poetry for the Faithful,_ gift from a pious noble.

Belinda, the dwarven cook, saw me and smiled. She made the mint candies I loved so much and before I was allowed to leave with a bucket of meat for the dracolisk she made me try her new lemon drop recipe. It was sweet and sour and perfect, like all her candies.

“These will boost moral for sure, Belinda,” I smiled and put a few in my personal candy pouch. “Do you think you can get a few jars into the troop’s rations?”

“Can do, your Worship,” then she let me take the offal out to the barn.

The dracolisk got excited when I came in, but only because I had his supper. I tossed him a lung and he snapped it up with the grace of a newborn puppy.

“Good to see you too,” I chuckled and opened my book. I read to him while feeding him bits and pieces of his dinner. He was much more careful now when he took the meat from my hands. His teeth scraped gently against my fingers, they never drew blood. I hoped this was part of his getting used to me and not because I had been known to stop feeding him if he got to rough.

The light was dying fast, so I had to stop reading or I would strain my eyes. Instead I kept hand feeding him and took up a song. I wasn’t very good at singing, I had trouble staying on key, but I loved it and no one deemed it fit to insist I stop my caterwauling.

The dracolisk didn’t seem to mind at all, he chewed a large chunk of beef heart and cocked his head from side to side as I hit the chorus of “Rise.”

“Do you like that song?” I asked.

He made a noise that reminded me of the rumble a dragon made in its chest after a heavy meal. I reached up and tried to put him and he moved his head to meet me. I gave him a nose rub in slight disbelief.

“Have you been putting me on this whole time?” I asked the beast. I found myself expecting an answer and I felt silly when I remembered that it couldn’t speak. “You fiend,” I giggled. “That’s a good name for you isn’t it? _Fiend the dracolisk_.”

“I don’t like seeing you so close to those bloody jaws,” I never even heard Blackwall approach, but he was there standing in the entryway of the barn. “I would hate to see that beast hurt you,” he stepped forward and placed his hand on my shoulder.

Electricity flew through my body, frying my nerves. I felt numb where he touched me. I had trouble finding words to answer. His thumb traced a gentle circle on the back of my shoulder. I felt stupid. _Say something you idiot!_ I hoped he couldn’t see the internal monologue going on in my head.

Then his hand reached up and stroked my cheek. “You have a pretty face; I don’t want that monster to mar it,”

Still stupid, I responded with a dull smirk; “I think a scar would make me look rather roguish.”

Blackwall frowned. “My lady, you really must stop all this,”

I dumped the rest of the pale into Fiend’s pen. “The dracolisk, or you, serah?”

“Both,” he muttered. “I am not good for you, my lady,”

“If this has to do with the calling—”

“It has nothing to do with that,” he grunted. “I am not a steady influence, my lady; I’ve been alone for a very long time. I don’t know how to be with you, or anyone for that matter.”

I laughed and leaned against Fiend’s pen. “And you think I do? I’m new to all this, Blackwall. I’ve never been outside the Circle like this—that life is all I know.”

He turned away, I couldn’t tell if he was afraid to speak about us, or if he was just so damnably stubborn that he simply wouldn’t. “You must feel it.” I whispered. “Or am I imagining it?” I tried not to sound as hurt as I felt, but my voice broke anyway.

“You’re young,” Blackwall sighed. “I am an old man, what can I give you?”

I didn’t have an answer so I repeated; “Do you feel it?”

“Of course I do.” He said bluntly. “But we have our duty, I cannot be with you.”

I learned back at Haven how to hold back the heartache for when I was alone. Seeing me in tears would harm morale. That was why I took a deep breath, slipped out of Genevieve and became the Inquisitor. “Very well.” I hissed.

“When we go to the Storm Coast—”

But I had marched off and didn’t hear the rest of it. Ser Marbrand and Ser Brandon were hard pressed to keep up with my mad dash for the keep. I had to keep everything locked up inside until I got to my room. Cassandra tried to stop me, I held out my bloodied hand. “Not right now, Cass.” I didn’t mean to sound cruel, but I had to get away.

I was up the stair well into my quarters before I let the first sob take me. I pressed my back against the door and sat down. This kind of heartbreak hurt a lot more than I had ever thought it would. Like the twisting of a knife in my chest—worse even, because the pain crawled through my fingertips, up to my head and down to my feet. I wiped tears away with the cuff of my tunic.

“Oh, I am a little girl,” I whispered.

“Oi, you crying?” I looked up the stairs and saw Sera at the balustrade, arms crossed over her chest. “Why are you gory?” she then asked, eyebrow cocked up.

“Sera what are you doing here?” I asked, furiously wiping tears away in the hope of looking more presentable.

“Waiting for you, duh.” Sera jumped over the railing and landed gracefully on the third step. She reached down and helped me up. “What happened?” she demanded. Of all of my friends, Sera and I were closest in age. We were close because of it, I spent a great deal of time with her, often on the roof eating cookies or playing pranks. She was also an excellent dance partner and sings just as terrible as I do.

“It’s nothing,” I said. I didn’t want to talk to her about this, I wasn’t sure I was ready to give up on Blackwall just yet and I didn’t want her opinion to cloud my thinking.

“Beardy being an arse?” she asked. Without another word she filled a basin with water from the kettle by the fire and handed me a bar of soap.

I cleaned up and sighed. I decided to ignore her question. “Why are you here, Sera?”

Sera ushered me to sit on the bed and went to my desk where she left a tray. “Cookies,” she laughed and held up a tray of tea and a plate of cookies for us to try. “I think I got it now,”

She handed me the tray and then jumped up on the bed next to me. I set the tray on the bed once we were situated and poured myself a cup of tea. Mint, my favorite. Sera handed me a cookie and I bravely took a bite. Not all her cookies came out very well, sometimes too salty, sometimes too flowery. This time they were too salty, but palatable.

“Better than the last batch,” I took a sip of my tea and helped myself to another cookie. This had become a pastime of ours, sitting around eating terrible cookies and planning pranks to play on the other members of our fine Inquisition.

My heartache was beginning to dull. Not completely going away, but softening around the jagged edges. With our tea and cookies gone we lounged around on my big canopy bed until we both fell asleep.

XXXX

Dennet himself came and got me in the morning. Sera and I were sleeping on top of the blankets, still wearing our clothes from yesterday when he came in. He apologized for disturbing us, a light red blush across his cheeks.

I looked down at Sera, who was still sleeping, and got up. “What is it?”

“It’s the dracolisk, your Worship.”

I groaned, it must have done something, maimed a stable boy or worse— _eaten_ a stable boy. That was what I needed now, to lose a bet on a technicality. And be out a stable boy, that would be bad too.

“What did he do?” I asked, Sera was still out cold.

“It’s what he’s not doing, your Worship. He seems ill,”

“I see, let’s go,” I didn’t bother putting on clean clothes and followed the horsemaster out to the barn. Fiend was curled up in the corner of his pen, his eyes half open, his mouth open in a slight pant. He tongue was swollen. If there were any other physical symptoms I couldn’t see them. I needed to get closer.

Dennet didn’t like it when I opened the pen. “Your Worship,” he grabbed my shoulder. “He’s ill, he’ll bite.” I looked down at Fiend and saw his dull eyes look up at me, a low growl emanated from his mouth. I backed away and closed the pen.

In the Circle I studied herbs and remedies with a wild fervor. Plants were my bread and butter; they were easier to deal with than people and a great source of relaxation for me. I knew how to cure hangovers, how to make health potions, sleeping draughts, even poisons that could kill an entire village with a drop to their water supply. It was a _very_ underestimated specialty.

“Keep an eye on him, serah,” I said. “I have an idea.” And I headed for the keep.

Cullen tried to stop me when I came into the main hall. “Clear my schedule,” I told him. “Fiend is ill,”

“Fiend?” my Commander scratched his head.

“The dracolisk,” I said and opened the door to the undercroft. The undercroft was empty, which I thought was unusual, but it was still early in the morning. My work desk was just as I had left it last time. Everything was in its place, clean and neat so as to avoid cross-contamination.

Since a sleeping draught would take time to brew, I got to work on that first. Crushing nettles, elfroot, and white lotus. It wouldn’t put the beast out completely, just make him more docile. At least that was what I hoped it would do. The draught would be crucial to moving him down to the underground stables where the rest of the Inquisition’s many horses were kept when at rest. The underground stables were quieter and had less traffic; it would be easier to treat a sick dracolisk there.

Once I got the sleeping draught going, I started on the health potions. One with common elfroot and another with royal elfroot. I cut both with a mint tonic; the mint made it taste better and was easier on the stomach.

The sleeping draught had turned a soft golden color. I donned a glove and strained the herbs from the potion with a sieve and poured the warm liquid into a glass vile. Fiend would never let me drip it into his mouth; I would have to get creative.

I took the three potions to the kitchens. “Belinda,” I called over the hustle and bustle of the cooks. The dwarven woman found me before I found her. She smiled her sweet smile and offered me breakfast. I declined. “Can you grind something up? Mix it with blood?”

“Why?” she asked, nearly mortified by my disgusting request.

“The dracolisk is sick,” I answered, feeling silly for not starting out with that.

The answer seemed enough; she ordered one of her assistance to butcher a duck. Within twenty minutes I was mixing sleeping draught and common elfroot potion in a bowl of ground duck breast and blood. I carried the dish out to the barn.

Blackwall was standing by the pen with Master Dennet. I didn’t say anything, not out of spite, but out of urgency. I slipped past, opened the pen, and slid the bowl of food towards the dracolisk. Fiend growled low in his chest, but the moment I closed the pen, he stopped, used a claw to drag the dish over to his mouth and started eating.

I pulled the two men into the barn proper so that Fiend could have some privacy. “I gave him a sleeping draft and a health potion, it’s not enough to put him to sleep, but it will make him passive.” I told them we would move him to a quiet place in the underground stables.

Blackwall seemed skeptical. Talking to him was difficult; I kept trying to ignore my rush of hurt feelings but it was nearly impossible. When he finally stepped away, promising that even though it was a bad idea, he would help me, I was able to turn away and let a few tears out. I wiped them away quickly. Friend was ill, even though he’d taken several snaps at me, tried to maul my stable master, and nearly bit off my hand, I was fond of him and I couldn’t stand to see a creature suffer, human or animal.

The bowl was empty when I peered over the pen. Fiend looked up at me, his yellowy eyes sad and glossy. He turned away and curled up like a horse. Ten more minutes and I felt confident enough to move him.

The promise of nug jerky got him up and moving; he was shaky when I coaxed him to his feet. Blackwall insisted he be the one by the jaws. Dennet and I placed out hands on his side and helped him stay steady as we led him down the slope into the underground stable. We found a pen well away from the other mounts. It was a quiet, little spot. I lit a touch and set it in a sconce outside the pen so that the light wouldn’t bother Fiend but would give us enough light to see by.

Now that he was safe and quiet, I was able to get close enough to examine him. Blackwall first tried to dissuade me, but I was obstinate.

“Stubborn, woman.” He grumbled, watching me.

I approached Fiend, he looked up at me, aware that I was nearby, but he made no show of aggression. I took that as permission to touch him. He didn’t fight me when I lifted his head and gently looked him over. His skin was warm to the touch, but I could feel a sickly wetness to his scales. His mouth was dry, I gently lifted his lip and viewed the redness of his gums. _Pupils dilated_. I felt a suspicion in the back of my mind.

It was very uncommon for horses and other animals to purposely ingest nightshade, but it happened. Usually, the taste was so repulsive the animals just spat it back out. It was possible that Fiend had accidentally eaten some. But that seemed unlikely. He spent most of his time in the stables and when out he was under my watchful eyes.

“I think its nightshade,” I whispered. Blackwall grunted his acknowledgement.

“Can you fix it?” he asked.

“I can,” I gave Fiend a gently rub behind his horns. “I’m more worried about how he got it into his system.” I took the royal elfroot potion from my belt and uncorked it. I held open his mouth, my fingers in direct contact with his teeth, he did not bite, did not flinch, just looked up at me with sorrowful, pained golden eyes. I dripped the potion into his mouth, he didn’t like the taste of it, but he didn’t bite me. “Good boy,” I whispered when the vial was empty.

Blackwall opened the pen and let me out. “I need to brew an antidote. Can you watch him?”

“Of course, never let a poor beast suffer if something can be done about it. I let you know if anything changes.”

I nodded. “Thank you,” it was easy to remember why I liked him so much. He was sweet and gentle. More than that, he cared about the innocent and the poor, and would never harm anyone unduly. And because he was willing to sit and watch a beast he didn’t care for just because I had asked him too. It was easy to love him, to want to be near him.

Once upstairs I headed for the undercroft again, this time Dagna was there working on a set of runes. She greeted me with an enthusiastic smile. We spoke amicability for a few minutes before she turned back to her work and I started grinding dried herbs for an antidote. I would need some fresh herbs as well. I left the potion brewing under Dagna’s careful watch and hurried up to my garden.

The garden was quiet and peaceful. Revered Mother Gisselle would hold Chant in a few hours; then the faithful of Skyhold would crowd into the garden and listen to her songs and sermon. Typically I would join them, the cull of faith and the desire to worship my Maker was a pillar of stability in my life—but I had other thing that needed my attention, the Maker would understand. If someone had purposely poisoned my dracolisk then it wasn’t a stretch to say that they may have been trying to poison me or my companions. I would have to get to the bottom of it.

I picked fresh royal elfroot, blood lotus, white lotus, mint, and a few other plants before rushing back to the undercroft. With practiced hands, I chopped, ground, and muddled herbs into a paste before throwing them into the brew and letting it boil together for an hour. When finished it would make enough antidote to see Fiend to wellness.

With an hour on my hands I decided I needed to find the source of the nightshade. I started in the garden, although I doubted it would be there. There was a simple understanding in Skyhold, the garden was irrevocably mine—no one planted, weeded, or harvested without my say-so. I would never purposely plant nightshade; there were other more effective, more humane poisons out there and I kept them in a very specific place.

As I expected, I didn’t find any invading nightshade. My garden was neat, clean, well-stocked, and I knew every plant within it. Next I would search the main grounds.

Orange poppies grew in abundance around the grounds. All of them natural wildflowers and no one had the heart to dig them up or destroy them. Some of the dignitaries were outside enjoying the mild weather watched me with overly curious eyes as I searched through patch after patch of grass and flowers in search of some sign that nightshade was on the premises.

Cassandra stopped her daily workout by the training yard to ask me what I was doing.

“Looking for nightshade,” I answered. “It seems my dracolisk ate some.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cassandra huffed, still out of breath from her exercise. “That creature eats meat,”

I smacked my forehead. “Ah, _of course_!” I jumped up, brushed my clothes off, and then leaned over and kissed Cassandra’s cheek. “Thank you!” I said, running off to where we kept the birds.

I felt a bit like a fool for not connecting it together right away. Belinda throws all the scraps of meat we don’t use into a bucket for Fiend—that means different cuts of meat are tossed in. Another animal could have eaten the nightshade.

The man who tended the birds spotted me and stopped feeding the chickens when I approached. He greeted me.

“Good afternoon, your Worship,”

“Afternoon, serah,” I looked out the coop. Geese, ducks, and chickens milled about the caged area snapping at bugs and bits of vegetation. “Did one of your birds unexplainably die recently?”

He thought about it for a time and nodded. “Yes, your Worship. A chicken, a day or two ago.”

“And this didn’t seem odd to you?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes birds just die; butcher didn’t see any point to wasting the meat, but it up for the dogs I imagine,”

I nodded and asked him to open the cage latch and let me in. I wanted to examine the coop. He obliged after telling me it wasn’t a place for someone of my status, but I insisted. I started with the perimeter of the cage. Some grass had recently been cut down around the fence line, but there was nothing left to indicate what had been growing there.

The man—I felt bad for not knowing his name but felt it would be awkward to ask now—followed slowly behind me, keeping the flock of geese and ducks from gathering around my feet. I asked him if he knew what had been growing along the fence; “Some grass,” he answered. “I cut it down and used it to pad the coop,”

Much to his chagrin I entered the chicken coop. My intrusion frightened the poor creatures and they clucked and flapped their wings nervously. The rooster was settled in the corner of the coop. He eyed me with suspicion and even got up in preparation to defend his hens. I made a little spell wisp and sent it to hover over him, he was so enamored with the little glowing ball of light that I was able to pick up one of the hens from her spot, set her on the ground, and hunt around her nest.

I found exactly what I was looking for. I held the sprig of dried nightshade in careful fingers and exited the coop. I showed the man. “This is nightshade, serah. Your bird must have eaten it by accident and it killed them, then I fed the dead chicken to my dracolisk and he’s poisoned.” More specifically the chicken’s gizzard, the bird must have died hours after ingesting it the plant. “I want you to take out all the nesting material in the coop and replace it with fresh straw, and don’t use strange plants, serah,” to get my point across I added. “What if I had eaten that chicken?”

He turned pale, apologized and got to work before I was even gone. Chances are it wouldn’t have hurt me too much, more like it would have made me slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t need to know that. This lesson would teach him not to pack the coop with strange vegetation.

I hurried back to the undercroft. My potion was nearly finished brewing, so I spoke with Dagna for a few minutes before straining the herbs and separating the liquid out into four separate vials. For a creature Fiend’s size, I thought four doses would an appropriate amount.

Blackwall was leaned up against the pen carving another chess piece when I came down to the underground stables with Fiend’s first dose. “No changes,” he reported. I thanked him and he opened the pen for me.

Fiend didn’t bother picking up his head, he merely opened his eyes and gave me a doleful gaze. Carefully, I approached. He didn’t growl or snap at me, so I thought it safe enough to kneel beside him. There was no reaction; in fact he barely seemed to notice that I had taken a seat next him. I pulled the cork from the first vial and placed my hand on Fiend’s snout. No reaction.

I could feel Blackwall’s stare bore holes in my back. I was holding my breath as I pulled open Fiend’s mouth. He let me pour the tonic down his throat before he snapped his jaws closed. With a sigh of relief I stood up and brushed the hay from my dress.

Blackwall opened the pen and then closed it behind me. I leaned against a nearby pillar and crossed my arms over my chest. “I found out where he got hold of the nightshade,” I said, he waited for me to continue; “One of the chickens that got thrown in his dinner died of nightshade poisoning.”

“An unscrupulous caretaker than?” he seemed visibly relieved that it wasn’t an intentional act. I was too. Poisoning a dracolisk I was trying to bend to my will seemed rather symbolic if you thought about it. Like a thinly vailed threat. But that wasn’t the case, and I made a note to thank the Maker for that in my prayers tonight.

I doubted I would be sleeping in my bed tonight though. I didn’t have the heart to leave Fiend by himself, so I left Blackwall to watch him for a bit longer while I went and grabbed a few comforts. A chair, a book, a blanket, all topped off with a stack of papers from Cullen (because “these are very urgent, Inquisitor, I must insist”).

Blackwall offered to stay with me, but I told him it was alright. Truth be told, I was still upset with him and I didn’t want to sit in awkward silence with him. And Besides Ser Marbrand had followed me around all day without saying a word and Ser Brandon would be taking the nightshift so I wouldn’t be alone.

The underground stables hardly made for good quarters; the smell was reprehensible. The scent of horseflesh, dung, and old hay choked the windpipe and set the eyes burning and teary. At least it was warm, though. With the horses in such close proximity, I would hardly need the blanket to keep warm for the night.

Fiend seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Although in the middle of the night he unexpectedly began dry heaving and I rushed to give him another dose of the tonic and something to eat and drink. He nestled back into his hay and fell asleep again.

In the morning Blackwall brought me breakfast. I was still hurt, but I ate and talked with him for a while. He watched me tend to the ill dracolisk with unyielding eyes. His eyes never showed what he felt or was thinking. I was a bit of an open book, thoroughly incapable to hiding my displeasures and excitement. But him, he was enigmatic—puzzling in a way that I found attractive. I wanted to know more about him, share in our likes and dislikes. In combat we were a great team, he always had my back. As friends we have a few things in common, we enjoy comfortable silences, riding horses, animals, we both had noble ideal; he as a Warden and myself as Inquisitor. But there was more I was sure. More things we might have in common if he would just open up. Like I said, he’s a bit perplexing

Made sense that I liked him though, I always enjoyed puzzles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to any and all who kudo and comment, I will always respond and I love to hear from you guys!


	3. Chapter III: Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha...you know what's funny...I totally forgot about this story until I was looking through my "complete" folder and found this...I am so sorry. This is the last chapter, I feel like a complete idiot for putting an incomplete story in my complete folder. I will try not to do it again. Please enjoy, thanks for waiting so patiently. 
> 
> Beta and reader props, you get the gist.

**Chapter III: Friend**

“You can’t be serious,” Blackwall crossed his arms and leveled me with a look of utter disbelief. 

“On the contrary,” I led Fiend out of the barn. His saddle was secure and two bags hung off his haunches. The poison was purged from his system, he was healthy and had suddenly gone from an ill-mannered beast to the most well behaved mount I had. The change was like night and day. He was responsive to my commands, sensitive to my non-verbal cues—like a press of my knees or a tug of the reins. He let me ride him around the courtyard and even down in the valley, only straying once from my command to hunt a rabbit he’d spotted in the nearby grove.

Best of all, _the traitors_ had gotten their just deserts and coins had been passed around. Varric and I were slightly richer than we used to be. It was a good victory.

With Fiend’s sudden change in behavior and now that he was sufficiently healthy enough to travel, I decided his first official “outing” would be our trip to the Storm Coast. Blackwall, Sera, and Dorian would join us. I found myself feeling rather excited to go, firstly to get away from Skyhold and secondly because I couldn’t wait to see how Fiend would do on the trip.

We left with early morning light still peaking over the hills. Fiend did well on the rocky path but I could tell he was much more comfortable when the road smoothed out. Dracolisks were bonier than horses, but with the custom-made saddle that my Stable Master had made, the ride was easier on me and probably much easier on Fiend. We moved at a good pace and taking what my men referred to as the Ferelden Pass, we were out of the mountains in a day and half.

The road held a lot of new things for Fiend to experience. Unlike a skittish horse that might shy away from a phalanx of passing soldiers, he stood his ground and stubbornly refused to move, his lips pulled back to show each of his sharpened teeth. It was only slightly embarrassing, especially when comparing it to the fifth day of our travels, when he spotted a hare, threw me from his back, and chased after it, only stopping when he finally caught the poor creature.

I took the dead hare away from him, thinking that if I let him keep it he might interpret it as a treat for acceptable behavior.

One week and we were in Crestwood, as I suspected, the mayor had not returned and had not been spotted by any of the villagers. We spent the night on the outskirts of town. It was a pleasant, cloudless night. I tied Fiend up away from the other mounts, fed him a bit of raw nug that Blackwall had killed, and then went to sit by the camp fire.

Sometimes we told stories, but tonight it was just nice to look up at the stars. Dorian was berating Sera about her haircut and Blackwall was busy with roasting dinner. When I got bored of looking at the stars I dug through my pack for my book of pressed flowers.

Flower collecting was something I had done while at the Circle, although there I had not been able to collect them, only used the library books to draw them into my own journals. Those journals were now lost. The destruction of the Circle had meant leaving things behind, and my books had been one of the material sacrifices I had made. Now as Inquisitor, I had access to every plant in all of Thedas, but to me there was nothing more exciting than discovering them on my own.

This particular volume (I have several) catalogued most of the Ferelden species. As I flipped through, making sure I wasn’t missing any flowers, Blackwall came to sit next to me. He reached into his pocket and produced a small, nearly crushed, little orange flower. “Here, my lady,” he whispered, holding it out for me.

I took it, it was missing a few petals and the steam was bent back. Despite its rough appearance I knew it was a gazania. A very hearty little flower, they grew like weeds in some places.

“Thank you,” I smiled. “It’s lovely,” I found a blank page, and set the flower between two sheets of paper where it would be safe until I could properly press it.

“I saw it growing through a crack in a rock,” he told him me. “Made me think of you.”

I smirked even though I told myself that he thought duty more important than whatever might be between us. “Why?”

“Heh,” I saw the smile under his beard. “Pretty little thing, growing right through the middle of an ugly rock. Nah, can’t think of why it would make me think of you at all.”

I held back a laugh. “That was bad,” I told him. “You’re as good at it as I am,”

He didn’t bother to hold back his laugh and that got me laughing. Dorian and Sera looked over at us like we were mad but they went back to their conversation without saying a word.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. I frowned because I couldn’t help but remember that night in the barn. If he didn’t want to pursue this, then why was he acting like he did? It suddenly hurt more than it had when he told me we had to focus on duty. He seemed to sense it and I felt him shift ever so slightly away from me.

“When we get to the Storm Coast,” he whispered. “You’ll understand,” and then he got up to tend supper.

After eating I went to check on Fiend one last time. He was doing well and I wanted to reinforce that whenever I could. I gave him some leftover nug, which he didn’t like near as much as he did the raw stuff, but he took it anyway. I kissed his snout, scratched him behind the horns, and then went to bed. Blackwall was taking the first watch, then Dorian, and Sera. I would take the early morning watch, which meant I was charged with making breakfast—a daunting task for someone who wasn’t good at cooking. It was probably going to be cold salt pork and half burnt hardtack.

I settled down on my sleeping pad. It had taken me a long time to get used to this…camping thing. Aside from being born to the noble family, the Circle had provided soft beds and warm halls. It had made me soft and disagreeable to dirt and the other generally unpleasant parts of outdoor living. But I had gotten used to it. My hands and feet had toughened, and I found I could deal with dirt and filth as long as there was a promise of a warm bath at the end of my adventure.

It wasn’t often that my dreams were interrupted, but I felt a wetness on my face and I internally sighed. The cloudless night hadn’t lasted, it seemed. We’d have to wake and set up the tents now that it was raining.

But when I did open my eyes and look up at the sky, I didn’t see a single cloud.

Confused, I touched my face. Sometimes dreams got away from us and we dreamed things like the touch of water, the taste of blood…

My fingers were coated in blood. For a moment I thought maybe I was still in the Fade. That the dream had gotten away from me, that maybe a spirit or demon had changed the world around me to suit their purpose. I turned over in my bed and came face to face with a mangled animal, its body oozing blood all over my sleeping furs, face, and hair.

I screamed then. A very unladylike, _very_ un-inquisitorial scream.

I was up on my feet staring at the dead thing. And then I was falling backward, tripping over my own sleeping furs. Someone caught me before I could fall. Blackwall picked me up and put me on my feet, behind him, Sera had her bow out, and Dorian was in a fighting stance.

“Andraste’s holy knickers!” I finally choked out. I could feel the blood sticky in my hair and it was caking on my cheek. Who would do such a thing? Why? To scare me? Was this some kind of threat?

“Fan out,” Blackwall growled; his arm was around my waist. I imagine it would have felt nice if I hadn’t been so terrified. Sera and Dorian did as they were told.

Battle, yes. Alright. Blood, gore, horrible injuries, death. But it was all face to face, not something like this, not someone leaving a dead animal on my sleeping pad. This was about instilling terror, about putting me off, trying to get in my head and _Andraste’s tits_ it was working.

Blackwall let go of me and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a rag, wet it with some water from a skin and started cleaning the blood from my face. “Look at me,” he muttered. “It’s alright, you’re not hurt.”

“I know,” I whispered. I wasn’t even crying, I was just horrified. “But why sneak up here and—”

Sera came jaunting back into camp, laughing. I looked over at her, trying to hide my offense. She was supposed to be on watch anyway. How could someone have snuck into camp without her notice?

“And what is so funny?” I demanded.

“You’re draco-thingy—that’s what!” she laughed again, this time doubling over with the force of her mirth. “Dorian, bring it here!”

Dorian came out of the darkness leading Fiend by his broken rope. His mouth was covered in bloody foam and he seemed to look pleased with himself. “We found him eating the other half of that…whatever it was,” he chuckled and pointed at the bloody bits on my bed.

Fiend sauntered over to me, let out a little huff and then went to nose at the remaining pieces of the bloody critter. Now my fright morphed into embarrassment. I marched over the too dracolisk, scooped up the rest of the—nug, I think—and then smacked his nose with it. “No.” I growled. “No. Bad Fiend. Bad.” He looked up at me with eyes that spoke of confusion.

The others were laughing, even Blackwall. There was still blood in my hair and my cheeks were turning hot with humiliation.

“You no good, beast.” I gave the dracolisk another smack, grabbed his broken reins and tied him up, this time closer to where we were camped so that I could keep an eye on him. I tossed the rest of the dead creature into some nearby bushes and looked down at my bloody bedding. I would need to clean it before I could sleep in it again.

Blackwall put his hand on my shoulder and smirked when I looked at him. “He just thinks you could use a bit more meat on your bones, lass.” He laughed again. I rolled my eyes. There was no denying that it had a sort of sweet morbidity to it. I still wasn’t happy about it and I didn’t want it to happen again, but I think Fiend must have meant well.

I sighed. “At least dawn is only a few hours off,” Blackwall went and picked up my soiled bedding.

“Come on,” he said. The lake wasn’t close to camp, but there were plenty of streams in the area. We found one such stream and I cleaned the blood from my face, hair, and clothes while Blackwall scrubbed the blood from my bedding. The water was cold, just like Ferelden. My wet hair had me shivering before we made it back to camp.

Blackwall handing me my soaked bedding, but only so he could take off his cloak and put it over my shoulders. “Thank you, serah,” it was simple and sweet and it made my heart ache. _Damn him_. It would be so much easier if he just ignored me. But he wasn’t going to, just like I couldn’t ignore him. There was something between us; something that couldn’t be seen or touched—that both of us knew was there. But duty and honor separated us like a wall.

I had never felt so bitter about doing what was right.

XXXX

I liked the Storm Coast. I hated the ocean and I hated sailing, but I liked the coast. The air was different then inland. It was salty and tinged with the sweet cloying smell of the pine forest along the beach. It was raining and we had to bundle up under heavy cloaks and scarves, but it was a bracing cold.

Fiend didn’t seem to mind it either. When we stopped to look out over the water, he followed the waves with his eyes, even tried to drink it before I stopped him.

Finally, after Fiend’s curiosity had been satisfied, Blackwall lead us into the forest. After an hour’s worth of traveling, Blackwall brought us to a sharp incline.

“Dorian, Sera, watch the mounts.” I said, dismounting and following Blackwall up the hill.

“It’s so quiet now,” Blackwall said, offering me his hand and helping me up the slope. “I remember when it wasn’t. I came here with another Warden. We were ambushed.” He paused for a few second and took a deep breath. “I tried to save him, but he died.”

“That must have been hard on you,” I said softly, reaching for his hand. He pulled me up one of the rocks and we stood at the top of the hill.

“His death was different…it changed me.” Still holding my hand, he guided me to a spot where bare bones stuck up from the ground. The constant rain and sea spray had eroded some of the bones leaving them brown and pockmarked. The swords too were rusted bits of corroded metal; one even had a pommel depicting a screeching griffin. It might have been a magnificent sword in its time.

Blackwall was picking around the bones, his eyes dark and his face downcast. He looked sad, sadder than I had ever seen him. He kneeled down in the mud then and picked something up from the debris. With a careful hand, he wiped the muck and rust from the object.

“That Warden-Constable’s badge,” he murmured.

“You’re badge,” I smiled; I had hoped the smile might cheer him. Instead he looked back down at the badge, solemn.

“Yes,” he muttered, “I suppose it must be,” another pause. “After all, I did earn it, I should not have let it go so easily.” He turned away from me and looked over the sea. “This was my life before I met you. Crumbling ruins, endless battles, _death._ ”

I went to stand beside him. My jokes always seemed to cheer him up, no matter how terrible they were. I put my hand on his shoulder and made him turn to look at me. “You know,” I began, “I’ve seen my fair share of ruins and death too. Maybe we’re perfect for each other.”

He cracked a slight smile. “You tease, but…” he sighed. “There’s nothing else for me here, but we can talk back at Skyhold. I, uh, I have to think,”

We were about to take our leave when Fiend came running up the hill. He screeched something awful and began stomping his feet in panicky, sharp movements. “What is it boy?” I asked a smirk on my lips. “Somebody in a well?”

Fiend screeched again then he circled around me and Blackwall. Another screech and now I was beginning to feel like something _was_ wrong. With Blackwall on my heels we made for where we left Sera and Dorian.

“Andraste’s mercy,” I hissed and looked down at over the hill. “Red Templars.” There were ten of them, at least. Four of them had Dorian and Sera backed up to the hill. I looked at Blackwall; he nodded and was running breakneck down the hill, sword and shield at the ready.

“For the Inquisition!” I cried, following after him. Gravel and wet rocks made the run treacherous and I was surprised when I found even ground with my feet and not my face. Quickly, I raised my staff and called lightning. It struck two Templars and they froze long enough for Sera and Blackwall to kill them.

Together, Dorian and I threw out a fire spell. Dorian laughed, “Glad you could join us,”

“Fiend let us know,” I said. And just as I said his name, the dracolisk came barreling down the hill, his momentum driving him to dangerous speeds. He charged into two of the burning Red Templars, biting one, clawing another. He put the fear of the Maker into them and they ran only for Sera to pick them off.

Fiend turned, his muzzle bloody; he pranced to my side and let out another screech when a Templar came charging for me, sword raised over his head. He swung the blade wildly bellowed; “Death to the Inquisition!”

I raised my hand and called lightning from the heavens. His raised sword made the perfect lightning rod and when my power struck him, he froze as the lightning coursed through him and then into the ground. Blackwall rammed into him from the side, throwing the Templar off his feet and allowing Blackwall to finish him off.

Ten Templars, it seemed, was no match for us. When three retreated into the forest I called the others back. There was no point to pursuit. “The Blades will get them,” I said, “Or a patrol.” In truth, the Inquisition was so well entrenched on the Coast that it was only a matter of time before we figured out where the Red Templars kept their base.

“Anyone hurt?” I asked, Sera bounced by, jovial.

“Close one, yeah?” She chuckled and began a search of a nearby Templar corpse. She pocketed some gold, but tossed a necklace over at me. “Inquisitor’s share,” she laughed and then frowned and pointed. “Best check your beastie,”

I followed her finger and saw Fiend, mouthing his teeth along the mailed arm of a dead Templar. “No,” I sighed grabbing his reins and tugging him away. “That’s not for eating, Fiend.” He continued, piercing a tooth though the lobster steel. “Come on now,” I gave another sharp tug and this time Fiend relented.

Dorian laughed, “We should get out of here before he tries to eat one of us,”

I shook my head and mounted up. Blackwall had the other horses and we were on our way to one of the Inquisition camps dotted along the Coast. When we reached a beachside camp, I ordered a few men to return to where we had battle the Templars; the Inquisition didn’t leave their enemies to the animals.

With soldiers on watch, we were able to let out guard down. The Requisitions Officer was a Ferelden native as tough as the land she had been born in. While a fish stew simmered on the campfire she shucked fresh oysters. She handed me every other oyster and told me stories of her homeland.

I did my best to listen, but I was paying too much attention on Blackwall. He had been very withdrawn since I’d found his badge. Seeing the place where his allies—friends—had been slaughtered was affecting him deeply. I knew under that tough warrior exterior was a man, he wasn’t infallible; and war and battle and fighting changed you. Blackwall was a veteran of more than his fair share of battles. It was unfair to assume he wasn’t different from his more youthful self.

I found myself wondering what a younger Blackwall was like—I tried to imagine him without a beard, but it was such a part of him that I couldn’t see him without it. The youthful Blackwall I imagined was as strong as he was now, but the furrow in his brow was gone and the worry-lines replaced with laugh-lines. Young Blackwall had a jolly quality to his smile and his shoulders weren’t so slumped from whatever terrible burden he carried.

Despite everything, I wanted to help him. I wanted to share the troubles between us. Age mattered little, experience even less—it didn’t matter. He made me feel better just by being around. No matter how lonely I got, he was there in the back of my mind, smiling at some stupid joke someone made.

The heartache blossomed in my chest again and I covered up its return by shooting an oyster back and laughing about something the Officer said. “Stew’s probably done, your Worship.” She smiled and asked if I was still hungry.

“Always,” I answered with a chuckle. I was in the habit of never turning down a meal with my troops; the comradery gave them courage and the story of sharing a brace of oysters with the Herald of Andraste would bring smiles to more than a few faces.

The stew was full of fresh fish, mussels, crab, and tomatoes. When everyone had had their fill, the soldiers took up a drinking song about Queen Anastasia and the fall of the Archdemon ten years ago.

_“And Practical Ana went up,_

_And the Blighty Dragon went down,_

_We Dog Lords loved her so much,_

_The King gave her a crown!”_

They repeated the “king gave her a crown” three times, each with a stomp of their feet and a clap of their hands and tipped their waterskins back as if it was the finest ale. They launched into the next verse and Sera jumped up to dance. I joined her and danced with the Requisitions Officer. 

We danced and sung until late in the night; even though I would have been content to remain singing and dancing until dawn, we had to move on in the morning, so I informed everyone I would be retiring for the night.

Before bed I went to check on Fiend, he snorted gleefully when he saw me. I’d brought a piece of raw fish left over from the supper. Fiend slurped it down and then met my hand with his head. “Good boy,” I muttered, rubbing him down with my hands as one might rub a horse down with a brush. He nudged me with his nose and nipped at my clothing playfully.

I realized that I hadn’t checked him over for injuries after the battle and felt horrible for not doing so. Quickly, I conjured a bright spell wisp and Fiend followed the little light orb with intelligent yellow eyes. I checked him over and was relieved not to see any injuries. I caught his mouth in my hands and made him open—he’d bitten right into that Templar steel and I wasn’t sure he hadn’t made himself bleed or hurt a tooth. With a thought, I moved the spell wisp closer to Fiend’s mouth.

“My lady,” Blackwall’s voice cut though my concentration. “I would much rather prefer you didn’t put your head in that creature’s mouth.”

I let go of Fiend’s jaws and chuckled. “Don’t look a gift dracolisk in the mouth, you say?” I expected Fiend to snap his jaws shut, but he closed them slowly as if giving me time to get my fingers out of the way.

“Don’t look a dracolisk in the mouth ever.” He said without mirth.

“You worry too much,” I sighed and laughed when Fiend to a snap at my wisp. I let him have it, casting the three of us in darkness, and then made another appear, much to the dracolisk’s chagrin.

Blackwall and I watched Fiend prance after the wisp. I loosed the dracolisk from where I’d tied him to a fallen tree, and we walked him along the beach. Fiend was more than happy to follow after the wisp.

The moon was waxing, but there were still enough light to walk by. We stayed on the pebbled beach and listened to the crashing of waves, broken up only by the sound of Fiend’s jaws snapping together in a vain attempt to catch my spell. Blackwall kept distance between us, but as we walked, I found it harder and harder to keep from reaching out to him with my hand.

Suddenly, Blackwall stopped in his tracks. I turned, forgetting about the urge to touch him or even the Fiend, who was now making a terrible growling sound at the orb.

“My lady,” it seemed he began every sentence with that. “My lady, I have too—” he paused and sighed as he if couldn’t find the right words to say.

Behind me, I could hear Fiend prancing around, kicking up little stones. He seemed annoyed now that the wisp has ceased movement.

“I cannot be what you want me to be, you know that.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. We’d had this talk already. Duty was important to him, more important than whatever it was we felt for each other. He’d made that clear, and by showing me the place where his brethren had died, he was trying to show how much losing one another might hurt—duty was best, duty would keep the heartbreak to a minimum.

I didn’t feel that way, but I could respect his feelings…even if it hurt.

“I don’t need you to be anything than what you are, serah,” I finally answered, there was a burning in the back of my throat—the one that told me I was about to cry. Quickly, I took a deep breath and called my emotions back into check.

“You will not like what I am.”

“Who’s to say that?” I snapped, feeling everything pour out of me. No one knew what was best for me, but me. I been denied so much in my life; a family, a real home, a mother and father who loved me, my own freedom—all of it take from me the day I turned eight. And now I had the chance to fight for the things I wanted; love, liberty, life, my faith—the things I needed, the things _I wanted_. “Do you think my hands are cleaner than yours? My powers might not be as brutal as a blade, but they have slain people, people with families and lives. But this is war and it changes you. You and I are not different.” Then, because I couldn’t control myself I went on again. “I spent my life locked up in a Circle Tower, they told me when I could sleep, when I could wake, eat, study, pray, and what I could and could not love— _you will not tell me what I will like or not like_ —I am done being told what to do,”

His face was calm, but I could tell that he was roiling with thought. “Then I advise you, you will not like what I am,”

“ _Oh, you’re incorrigible_ ,” I spat, with more vitriol then I’d meant.

“I’m the incorrigible one?” he growled, and I thought that for once in the time I had known him, I had finally pressed _his_ buttons. “You’re the most stubborn person I know—persistent to the point of rage, my lady. You think this is easy for me? A young girl, lusting after me like I was the Commander?”

“I _do not_ lust,” I tried to argue, but he continued on.

“You’re the strongest, prettiest damn lass I’ve ever met—my lady, don’t think for a moment that I don’t want you, _I do_. I can hardly sleep through the wanting, damn you, but I am trying to be a good man, a decent man— _you will not like what I am_ —I am not good enough for you, you deserve better. I care about you, and because of that I must care about duty more.”

We were silent. I was trying to figure out a way to respond. I searched for the heartache, hoping that I could use it to fuel my discontent, but I had lost it and gone numb. During his speech he had bridged the gap between us and I felt the weight of his presence. Heat pooled in my abdomen and tingled up my spine. He was immeasurably close to me. So close I could see the shine in his eyes—wanting, he’d said. I almost paled at the thought and felt maybe I’d gone deeper, but as I looked at him I realized he had been right. _I did lust._

He did not touch me, but he was drawing closer and I knew he meant to kiss me. I mentally readied myself for it—I knew nothing of romance and kissing and sex beyond the books snuck secretly between Circle Mages. This was daunting, this was terror. 

_Maker’s breath, put me in front of an army of Templars and I barely bat an eyelash—but kissing? There is my arch-nemesis._

But it never happened. 

I opened my eyes and found a dracolisk instead. Fiend gurgled deep in his throat and I sighed. I could see Blackwall’s form moving quickly through the darkness, far away from here. _From me._

Sighing, I placed my hand on Fiend’s nose. “You fiend.” I grumbled and led him back to camp.

XXXX

Skyhold and the thought of paperwork had never been so welcoming an idea. The road back to the keep had been a long and awkward one. Blackwall hadn’t said a word since our time on the beach and Dorian and Sera insisted on filling the silence with annoying small talk. I tried to be polite, but any semblance of joy their jokes might have brought me was siphoned away by my loneliness.

I informed Master Dennet that Fiend had performed amicably and that I would take care of him myself. Fiend loved the attention I gave him. Belinda brought choice bits of beef and goat for me to feed him while I bathed him and rubbed him down.

Blackwall never came back to the barn after putting his horse up. He was purposely avoiding me, it seemed. Well and good, time apart would give me a chance to heal.

Once he was fed and put up for the night, I hurried up to the keep to catch my own supper. I dined with my Advisors and gave them my verbal report; I would give them my written report in a few days. Before I went upstairs for bed, Cullen passed me stack of requisition requests and troop accruement data.

I started reading through them on my way to my quarters. Ser Marbrand greeted me, “Your Worship—Serah Blackwall…”

“What about?” I asked, not looking up from one of the orders. The officer who’d written it had misspelled a few words and I found myself trying to puzzle out what he meant.

“He is within, your Worship,”

“Oh.” I tried to hide my nervous swallow, but Marbrand had been with me since I’d first come to the Circle. He knew me well.

“I could send him away, if you like,” my Knight offered.

I frowned. For some reason that seemed worse than seeing him. “No, I’ll see him, thank you Ser.”

I hesitated at the top of the stairs and tried to build up my courage. This felt inevitable, as if it was meant to be this way. It was the same feeling I had had when I was told the people called me the Herald of Andraste, and when I had been made Inquisitor; as if everything was falling into place and the Maker’s plan revealed through the fog. This was meant, destined. _Right._

Whatever awaited me was divine providence.

Slowly, I opened the door and headed up the stairs. The servants had already prepared the fireplace and the bed had been turned down for me. There was a new jar of peppermint candies on my desk. But I didn’t see Blackwall anywhere. I sighed, placed the reports on my desk and noticed the opened balcony door.

Blackwall stood, leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, and shadow cast over his face. I smiled slightly and said the first thing that came to mind; “I knew you couldn’t stay away,”

He responded with an exasperated sigh; “No, I couldn’t.” he didn’t move. “If only you knew how confounding you are, how impossibly infuriating.” That made me smile, for some reason.

“I wanted to thank you for accompanying me to that ruin.” He stood up from the frame and entered the room, “I wanted to—” a sigh, like he was giving up. “I just had to see you,” then, before I knew it his arm was around my waist and he hoisted me up. His lips fell on mine and it was a natural as breathing. It was a forceful kiss, as if he was trying to tell me something, but the scratch of his beard and the warmth of his lips left me before I could even think to translate it. “No,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine and then suddenly pulling away, the warmth of his arms gone. “This is wrong, I shouldn’t be here.”

I bit my lip and tried to smile. I wanted him to kiss me again. Why can’t he see it the way I do. This was all happening for a reason; the Maker had put us here on this path—to collide—on purpose. I had to believe that, if I didn’t then it meant every suffering, every hurt, every death meant nothing. I couldn’t live in that world.

“It doesn’t feel wrong,” I whispered.

“I want to give in,” his hand closed into a fist. He was fighting, trying to will himself to walk away like he had that night on the Storm Coast. “Maker knows how much I wish I could—but I’m not what you want. I could never be what you deserve.”

“You’re wrong,” I answered. I could see the goodness in him, the way he struggled with some great inner burden. “You’re a good man, I see it.”

He sighed and his hands fell to my shoulders, “There is nothing I can offer you, you’d have no life with me.” He paused and thought maybe he was choking down tears; “I need you to end this, because I can’t.”

Was it so wrong to want something? To believe that we could share our troubles, that together, we could be something better than ourselves? I wasn’t naïve, it was more than possible that this would turn sour and break both our hearts—but now I had the chance to make my own mistakes, my own choices. There could be no shame in wanting to try.

“I’m not letting go,”

“We’ll regret this, my lady,” and he swooped in close to press his forehead to mine. I reached up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek, emboldened now that I had him.

“Do you regret that?” I asked, boldly.

He responded by putting his hands around my waist and I felt my feet leave the floor as he pressed his lips to mine and pushed me back against the railing. I reached out behind me for it, grabbed the solid marble, slipped and then nervously giggled when I fell out of his arms. He didn’t say anything, just picked me up again, pressed closer against me, and we kissed.

And I was woefully unprepared.

I didn’t know what I was doing and I found myself actually slipping away from him because I was so embarrassed. He laughed and tugged me closer as if to tell him there would be no escape.

“I’m sorry, I’m clueless,” I finally admitted. “I have never done this—or anything like it for that matter. It’s not that the Circles are sexless they’re supposed to be, but it’s just well…everything I know I learned second hand, so I’m not sure what I’m doing right or wrong and the other mages found my love of herbalism to be dreadfully boring so I never really—please for Maker’s sake, tell me to stop talking,” I groaned inwardly when he shot me a cheeky smile.

Gently, he combed his fingers through my hair and kissed me again. “You’re fine, little bird,”

 _Little bird?_ “Oh, I’m a bird now?”

He gave me another kiss. “You sing,”

“Badly,”

Another kiss. “And you left your gilded cage behind. So yes, you’re a little bird.”

I smirked and felt silly, but I liked it. Once upon a time my parents had had nicknames, and little bird wasn’t so bad. “I kind of like it,”

“Aye well, good.” And then he kissed me again and we practiced well into the night and the next morning. We’d taken to the sofa and I fell asleep against his shoulder only to wake up with Leliana standing over us, a knowing smile on her face.

“Good morning, Sister,” I said, heat blooming in my cheeks.

“So it is,” Leliana smiled. “I’ve come to tell you that your dracolisk has eaten a cat and escaped the stable.”

“Of course,” I got up with a sigh. _Because, of course._

Blackwall laughed and it made me feel better; “Perhaps _‘beast tamer’_ would have been a better name.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite how late this update is, I am not above self-promotion. If you liked this story, I would really appreciate it if you went and checked out my other stories. 
> 
> My current project is Hawke Hunt, its the "spiritual" successor to Two-Hundred Roses, although I maintain you don't have to read Roses in order to understand and enjoy Hawke Hunt. 
> 
> Hawke Hunt is quite the undertaking--it will be twice as long as Two-Hundred Roses; it features multiple points of view including Blackwall, the Inquisitor, Varric, Cassandra, Cullen, etc. It has a slow build, but I swear, to the old gods and the new, that it will be worth it. It has three main pairings; Female Inquisitor/Blackwall, Female Hawke/Sebastian, and Female Cousland/Alistair. 
> 
> Here's a link to Hawke Hunt: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3649767/chapters/8063676
> 
> And a link to Two-Hundred Roses: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2807816/chapters/6301883
> 
> I would really appreciate it if you checked it out, thanks as always. I am always grateful of comments/kudos/bookmarks. Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 will be coming soon, not sure when. Before Easter Break, of course. Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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